


A little broken, a little new

by Beleriandings



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, much-needed de Rolo sibling hugs, near-unprecedented Addressing Of Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: [Prompt]: "I had a dream that I killed you"





	A little broken, a little new

**Author's Note:**

> (Sometimes even rogues roll a nat 1 on stealth)

The hour was drawing well past midnight, and Percy rolled out the muscles in his back and shoulders, stiff from hunching over his desk since the others had retired to bed. He was beginning to feel the prickle and itch of sleep behind his eyes now, and was just considering at last getting up to go to bed himself when he heard the faintest sound outside his workshop door.

Immediately, he sat up straight, blinking the sleep from his eyes, alert once more; Whitestone _should_ be safe now, and well protected. But Percy had never really had the chance to learn to drop his guard, and didn’t think he ever would. 

He listened for a long moment, getting up from the desk in silence, fingers going to the holster at his hip, brushing lightly over the grip of his pistol. It still felt a little unfamiliar, this gun, compared to his old Pepperbox, but he was getting used to it, and its weight – though always a weight on his heart too – did a lot to still the flicker of anxiety in his chest at the sound of strange noises in the castle at night.

He placed his hand on the curved grip, ready to draw in a moment, and leaned down, pressing his ear against the door to listen.

Again, there came the sound; very faint, but audible. A soft, breathy sound, very close; it was almost, he thought, as though there were someone just standing there on the other side of the door, and … _well._ He was very sure he must have been mistaken, for that had sounded _almost_ like a stifled sob.

Percy frowned. It could be an illusion, he thought, mind jumping between increasingly dire possibilities with abandon. It could be a trap…it was often a trap, in general, he had found. _Where was Vax when one really needed him_.

The sound came again, and this time there was a shifting, as though of fabric against some surface, once again very soft, barely detectable. Percy stood still, hand on his gun, barely breathing himself as he listened. He was almost certain there was someone outside his door now, listening to him just as intently.

Time seemed to slow, seconds drawn out long as his heartbeats speeded up. But he did not flinch or tremble; this, at least, he knew. This silent waiting, the steady patience until the right moment.

The moment came, and Percy was exploding into motion, throwing open the door and kneeling down, tucking himself behind the frame to gain cover as he aimed his gun into the hallway.

He was met with a startled cry, and let out a little exclamation of his own as the blade of a short, bright dagger caught the light spilling out of his workshop.

A moment later, he was faced with a very familiar face, looming out of the darkness. Ashen with shock, eyes wide and blinking as they adjusted to the light. Hair wild and loose, dark with a streak of white running through it at the front.

Percy blinked, lowering his gun in haste. “….Cassandra?”

“Percival… oh…” her face went even paler, her eyes flickering away from his own. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

She seemed to notice the dagger in her hands, her face twisting a little with something painful and complicated that he couldn’t quite read, as she slipped the dagger back into the sheath at her belt. She was wearing her outdoor jacket, sword and dagger on a belt over her finely embroidered nightdress, he noticed. He frowned, looking up and down the corridor in puzzlement as she tucked the dagger away. “Did you…ah…have something you wanted to discuss with me?”

She made a face, as though regretting her choice in coming here at all. “…No” she said, her arms coming up to hug her elbows. “I didn’t mean you to…never mind. I am sorry I interrupted your work.” She turned to go, gazing determinedly at the soft blue carpet of the corridor.

But Percy caught her arm; she was shaking, he realised. “I was just about to turn in. I’m…very sorry I drew a gun on you, Cass.”

She looked up at him, and he saw that her eyes were a little red. “It’s alright.” She hesitated. “I drew a knife on you. I didn’t…mean to do that either.”

He almost laughed, but could not quite bring himself to. “It’s all right. I daresay we’re both a little…jumpy these days.”

She smiled wryly at the carpet. “Yes, I daresay.”

The silence grew loud, as Cassandra rubbed her elbows. “Well” she said. “I will go back to bed now. Goodnight, Percival.”

Percy frowned, still certain he was missing something; he didn’t like feeling like that. Most problems were easier to solve, but Cassandra…well, there was so much he didn’t – possibly _couldn’t_ \- know. Those five years they had been apart had changed her, in ways that he didn’t know how to quantify yet, with guilt filling in all the gaps in the meantime. “Cass. Why did you come down here, to my workshop?”

She bit her lip, eyes leaving his. “No reason. I just went for a walk.”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t remember her being this bad at lying when she was playing tricks on their older siblings, as a child. But then, perhaps this was an exceptional circumstance. He narrowed his eyes. “We’re three flights of stairs below your bedroom.”

“Yes, I know.” She met his eye, staring back at him, a little defensive. She sighed. “Yes. Fine. I couldn’t sleep. Or…” she reached up, running a nervous hand through the front of her hair, where the shock of white was. “I woke up, and couldn’t get back to sleep. So I went for a walk. Down here.”

“…Did you have a nightmare?” This, at least, Percy had some inkling of; he had had his share of those, after all. He knew the way of them, and the paralysing feeling of dread they left behind.

“I didn’t come here for you to baby me. But…yes.”

He nodded, fidgeting with his cuffs; this was where his expertise ended. He was good at recognising such things, he had found, but rather bad at coming up with words that would make it better. “You can talk to me about it” he said awkwardly, running fingers through the front of his hair. “If you like.”

Cassandra looked up at him, for a long, long moment. Then she spoke, all at once, eyes fierce and combative, tension in her shoulders as though steeling herself for a fight. “I dreamed…” she paused,  taking a breath. “Percy, I had to come and…check on you. And I know that sounds…silly, and childish maybe, and I shouldn’t have bothered you, and I didn’t even mean for you to _hear_ me but…” her voice was rising, tumbling out quickly now, as though if she stopped speaking she would never be able to begin again. “I had a dream that I _killed_ you, Percy. I dreamed I was…back at the Ziggurat, that day. I dreamed it wasn’t _her_ I put the sword through, but…but _you_ …and I watched myself throw _your_ body in acid, and…and in the dream, I couldn’t stop. I was listening to her, her voice was filling up my head, and it was as though there was nothing I could do to change it back.” She was trembling badly now, wringing her hands. “When I woke up, I had to come and check you were…still here.” She raised her head, and there were tears in her eyes now, and she wiped them away, expressionless. “And then I nearly stabbed you by accident anyway.” She laughed, hollowly, in what Percy recognised all too easily as self-disgust. “Funny how these things work out.”

“…Now, now. I should like to think I’m more difficult to kill than that.” The attempt at a joke fell flat, even to his own ears. His heart ached, as he thought of all of his own nightmares in which _he_ had killed _her_ , spilled her blood on the castle flagstones, devoured by clouds of black smoke. And not just the nightmares; he still remembered what it had felt like when he had seen her name etched clearly on the metal of his gun, the feeling of dread as though he were falling into black oblivion, and had no way to change course.

He had changed course though, in the end; but he had had help, then and after. But Cassandra…well, she had been so much more alone than he ever had, for so long. He cleared his throat, starting again. “I startled you, just now” he said, as gently as he could manage. “It’s not your fault you reacted that way.”

The twist of her mouth made it clear what she thought of that. “I shouldn’t have come at all” she said. “It’s silly.”

Again, she made to turn away, and again, he caught her arm. She flinched when he did, but a moment later relaxed, just a fraction. There was something, he thought. Something he could do to make this better. He thought of Vex and Vax, then; he couldn’t help but be jealous of the easy affection and familiarity the twins shared, sometimes. Still, the best he could probably do here would be to follow their example.

And so, on an impulse, Percy pulled his sister into a hug. For a moment, she went rigid in his arms, and in that instant he thought he might have made things much worse. But then, her arms were coming up to hug him back, her face pressing into his shoulder and holding him tight, hands bunched in the back of his waistcoat. Her hair tickled his face; it smelled like their mother’s perfume, a fact which Percy had been wholly unable to prepare for in the moment. The scent was like a blow to the chest, bringing tears to his own eyes as he allowed the memory of lost days to overtake him, for a little while. Things that could have been, and the things that could still be. The people he hadn’t been able to save, and those that, with the help of his new family, he had.

After a while, he drew back, to see Cassandra’s face stained with tears. She smiled, a little ruefully. Thank you” she said, very softly.

“Of course.” He laid his hand on her arm. “And… I won’t always be here in Whitestone in the near future, but when I am, as I’m sure you know, I…tend to spend most of the nights in here. So if it happens again…” he gestured to the workshop behind him. “I only ask that perhaps you knock, next time.”

“I will bear that in mind.” She paused, then shot him a grin. “Dear god though Percy, your friends have changed you even more than I knew” she said, laughing a little.

He couldn’t help but laugh too. “They’ve kept me alive, despite all. But I like to think they’ve also made me better.”

Cassandra wiped tears away from her face with the sleeve. “Wonders never cease.”

“Well” Percy took her hands in his, giving them a squeeze. The touch was reassuring, grounding and solid and warm. “I certainly hope not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyyy it's my first (posted) campaign 1 fic!!! I'm only on like episode 61 (I'm catching up slowly) but I love these two and I needed something like this :') The title is from the song "North" by Sleeping at Last.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and feel free to witness my C1 liveblogging and/or come yell with me about Critical Role in general on tumblr @kanafinwhy <3


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